For Your Eyes Only
by LR Earl
Summary: My entry for the 2014 DramioneLove Fest. Harry Potter meets James Bond with Hermione Granger playing the titular role. Draco Malfoy's her leading gent, Ron Weasley's vying for her affections, Professor McGonagall is 'M' and the Weasley twins are 'Q'. Post Hogwarts.
1. Part One

_**Warnings**: Explicit Content, Language, Hermione - POV_

_**Author's Notes:** My submission for the DramioneLove Fest 2014. This story has five parts and is **completed**. There are a few changes to what was originally posted for the Fest and I happily share them with you here. I hope you all enjoy!_

_This is an AU – There were no Wizarding wars. Harry Potter grew up with his parents and his fellow cohorts attended Hogwarts for all seven years; only typical teenager stuff happened. Hermione Granger is still a Muggle-born witch, but instead of growing up the daughter of dentists, she lived in an orphanage until Professor McGonagall informed her of her magical status at age eleven. This story starts at graduation after completion of seventh year, then jumps to three years later. Slight OOC for the prompt's sake._

_Thank you so much to Omignome for her awesome beta skills!_

_**Disclaimer: "**Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This work of fiction was created entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

Part One

_25 June, 1998_

I wasn't at all surprised when my Head of House approached me the day before I was set to graduate from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was set to give my salutatorian speech, two feet of parchment in hand preaching about tripe such as 'work hard and you will achieve your dreams' and 'remember the friends you made here at Hogwarts' and the other necessary platitudes. My Transfiguration professor approached me as I was neatly laying out my graduation robes in my solitary dormitory. Being Head Girl, after all, did have it perks and I was no longer stuck listening to the incessant whine of Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil. After six years, it sounded like one big gaggle of chickens; I had been more than ready for peace and solitude.

Minerva McGonagall had always been my favorite professor for a reason. It wasn't because she had been to first person to ever visit me at "Holly Heaves' Home for Orphaned Children" just before my eleventh birthday to inform me that I was a witch and could practice magic. She had been a constant mainstay in my life since that eventful day; she escorted me from Diagon Alley to Ollivander's until I first boarded the Hogwarts' Express.

The matronly witch held a gleam in her eye that promised she was always up to more than she let on and her stern mouth caused as much fear to Gryffindors as it did to Slytherins - Severus Snape wasn't the worst person to be caught by when roaming the halls after curfew.

Back in my room, Minerva approached and gently crossed her hands in front of her waist, said twinkle in her eye as she appraised me. "Have you given any thought to what you'd be doing after Hogwarts, Ms. Granger?"

I shook my head, perplexed. My Head of House hadn't called me 'Ms. Granger' for a while now. I had taken the liberties afforded to Head Girl to visit with her often after school hours during my last year at Hogwarts. She was fascinating to talk with, knew something about everything, and all though there was some things she hid from me (probably due to my age), she never failed to answer my questions (she always made an exception for her favorite pupil). As my last year drew to a close, I wanted to spend as much time as I could with her. For research purposes, I told myself. Truthfully, she had been one of my few friends at Hogwarts. It was completely sad, but entirely true. Socially-awkward orphans who rather spend more time in a book than socializing tended to not fit in.

I partly-shrugged. "Not really. Returning to the Muggle world now wouldn't really do me any good, but I can't say I've found my place in this world just yet. I'm still 'straddling the fence' as you might say." I fiddled with the corners of my speech. "I want to help … but with what? I don't know," my voice trailed off.

She nodded sagely. "I'd figured as much. You've championed many causes during your tenure here … house-elves, magical creatures, the rights of others like yourself ... I'm sure you will find your place when the time is right. I see great things in your future, Hermione." The elder woman gave a warm, albeit cryptic smile and pulled a slip of parchment from the inside of her sleeve. It was folded and she indicated to me to take it. "It's for you … after the festivities have died down a little."

Reaching forward, I took the slip of parchment and stuffed it in my back pocket, words suddenly hard to move past my throat. I only had one day left at Hogwarts. I would no longer be a student, looking forward to our long chats over tea.

Bright eyes nodded at me in understanding, but she world did not move forward to hug me. "Don't worry, dear. It's not the last we'll see each other, I'm sure. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day." And with that parting, I was left alone. Curiosity had always been a personal failing, my former Transfiguration professor had to have known that, and no sooner than she had closed my chamber door, did I take out the note and read its contents.

_Saturday, 28 June__ – 9am_, it read as a small feather tickled my hand. It was magically adhered to the note. A portkey?

I looked back to the closed door and could feel my brows crinkling in thought.

Just what did that mean?

* * *

Graduation came and went without much fanfare and I went through the motions. I hugged old classmates; most of the boys now towered above me. It didn't seem fair that they'd hit their stride right after achieving legal status, while I remained more or less the same height since fifth year.

I made small talk with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, the inseparable duo of Gryffindor. 'Frick' and 'Frack', everyone called them; they were the wondrous duo of Quidditch, co-captains of Gryffindor's house team. I may have harbored a small crush on Ronald Billius Weasley back in sixth year, and it didn't help he had grown more confident as he grew into his looks. I tried to keep my blushing down to a minimum while we talked politely, not that he would ever notice.

Lavender Brown hung somewhere close by; my back heated with her glare. I sighed, growing annoyed. It wasn't like I was going to steal her man and tried to focus on the conversation at hand. Harry seemed actually interested in my plans over the summer. He always was friendly towards me.

"Some traveling, I guess," I answered as I tucked an errant curl behind my ear. "I've only been to one place, if you count Hogwarts. It'll be nice to see what else the world has to offer."

"Well, when you get back, Mum and Dad will be happy to let you stay with us," Harry offered.

I smiled. "Thank you, that means a lot, but-"

"Harry, I thought we were trying out for the junior Auror program," Ron interrupted. "Starts in July, y' know? It'll be hard to play host if we're off training on the continent, I suppose." Ron threw an arm around my shoulders and beamed down at me. "Sorry, 'Mione. Maybe next time, yeah?"

The heat was beginning to spread under my robes and I knew it was only a matter of time before Lavender suddenly made a re-appearance, desperate to re-assert her claim. I shrugged out of his grasp. It was heavy and smelt of Birchwood. "Of course," I replied politely. "Thank you, Harry. I'll see you around, Ron. Good luck with the program." _And good riddance to copying off my homework_, I thought sourly.

"Bye, Hermione," they echoed, but I was already walking away. I passed small groups of students huddled together with their families, including the self-described king and queen of our year, one Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy. His elegant dress robes draped over one arm and both held each other around the waist. They looked every bit the enchanted couple, probably itching to announce their betrothal to the world the next day in the _Prophet_. I wouldn't be surprised.

Malfoy caught sight of me and I raised a stiff brow in acknowledgment. The git was still sour I had beaten him out of the top spot in our year. His antics had died down this past year and half, but it didn't stop the teasing that flowed so effortlessly between us; it flowed more out of habit than of spite. At least on my end.

Malfoy nodded curtly in return. Even for a being a world class arse, I could begrudgingly admit he was handsome. Even more-so as he had finally filled into his height, the lank and long features practically diminished under a fine-angular bone structure. Quickly pushing the silly thought to the back of my mind, I walked off the green where our ceremony had been held, the sunshine high overhead making the curls at the back of my neck dampen with sweat.

Taking a deep breath, I left Hogwarts. My suitcase was full of meager belongings, letters of recommendation from four professors to do Merlin-knows-with and books that were mine to keep. I held Minerva's missive tight in my hand, the chatter of students refusing to leave what had once been their home for seven years floating behind me.

* * *

_28 June, 1998_

At 8:58am, I sat on the bed within my room at the Leaky Cauldron re-reading 'Pride and Prejudice', a reluctant favorite. Loose curls frustratingly fell into my line of sight. Jane Austen would have you believe that defiant girls from loving, low-class families could win over the dashing, brooding anti-hero with nothing but charm and wit. I hardly believed it to be true, but couldn't deny the many creases and bent page corners throughout the spine of my worn copy. For whatever her gushing about love, Jane Austen had kept me company many a nights at Holly Heaves.

I never knew my parents. I don't know what happened to them. An elderly benefactor with too much money and little business sense took over an aging orphanage established during the Second World War. Holly Heaves had refurbished the dusty building I would call 'home' for the first eleven years of my life.

The only thing I looked forward to was the weekly delivery of used books. It was where I first discovered my love of reading. There was a tutor hired for the five of us never adopted. I always asked her about the world I found in my books, if the magical places I read about actually existed. How could I have known? She had laughed and told me 'no.' But she never could explain why I could do things unexpectedly or make things move when I thought about it really hard (I had escaped through a window one night after I mysteriously opened the lock – I didn't make it far).

So, I turned to my second-hand books. They never offered any answers either … that is until a kind woman by the name of McGonagall came to visit me one afternoon in the summer of 1991 with a letter.

And now, Minerva was once more asking me to go somewhere unknown with her.

Laying the book aside on my bed, I pulled the note with the feather attached out of my jean pocket and waited for the portkey to activate.

Anywhere was better than that old, decrepit building I thought with a shudder. I had one moment to thank Merlin for magic before I felt the pull of the portkey take me away.

* * *

My feet, previously raised on the bed, slammed onto a cold stone floor. My balance lost from the mode of travel, it took a moment for my body to re-orient itself. I stood alone in a stone corridor softly lit with a row of torches on one side, akin to the dungeons of Hogwarts. Except this hall wasn't wide enough for a classroom of students to pass through.

Taking a shaky breath, I reminded myself that Hogwarts was no longer my home before starting down the corridor. This was definitely not Hogwarts and I gathered my wits about me.

"Hello," I called. I would have least thought my mentor would have been there to greet me, but only the flickering of torches answered me. I made my way until I came until a dead end, a stone wall before me. Taking out my wand to tap on the stone, thinking a magical entry was necessary, I jumped back as the stone slid into the wall before I could even mutter an incantation.

The room revealed was even darker than the hallway for no torches lined the wall. As I walked through the doorway, I could feel the magical brush of a ward fall over me.

"_Lumos_," I called as I tried to spread light into the dark tavern. No sooner had I called forth some light, did the door behind me close with an ominous slam. My breathing kicked up and my heartbeat thundered in my ears. "_Homonum revelio_!" I shouted. Nothing.

My wand light swung in wide arcs as I tried to ascertain my location, but only blackness greeted me. The _Point Me _spell was useless. Not one sound was heard in the oppressive darkness and fear began to crawl along my neck.

That fear manifested into tiny clicks upon the stone floor and I whirled to face what was drawing near. Had Minvera sent to me into a trap? The foreboding clicks grew louder as an Acromantula materialized before my wand light. Thinking quickly, I conjured flames from the tip of my wand. The beast was not alone, as expected, but I beat them all back as best I could. There was no fear, only determination as I battled the small colony of spiders.

Soon they retreated, leaving their burnt brothers on the ground and I stood victorious, smoldering flames and the stench of ash surrounding me.

"Brilliant!" A voice full of excitement called from the shadows. I turned as overhead gas lamps blazed to life above me. My eyes squeezed shut, still acclimating from dilating too fast, and my wand arm came up to shield my eyes. "I expected no less from you, Hermione!" The voice was closer now.

Opening one eye at a time, I removed my arm and stared up into the lights on the ceiling.

"What. The bloody hell. Was that?!" I pushed through my teeth to the bodiless voice. Choice words itching to fly free burned my tongue as I clamped my mouth shut and tried to swallow my shock.

Neville Longbottom approached me, his robes slightly askew from running to greet me as he enveloped me in a tight hug.

"They weren't convinced that one so young was ready for DMI-6, but they don't know you, Hermione." My arms hung limply at my side, stiffly out of place. I didn't do hugging well and I did it even worse after having several creatures nearly tear my head off. Almost dying will make any one skittish.

"You were phenomenal, Hermione. You're light on your feet, quick-witted, your spellwork … of course, I wasn't surprised," Neville responded with a blush as he released me.

I shook my head, not following where he was going. "What _was_ that?" I repeated indicating to the creatures on the ground. My breathing had yet to return to normal.

His eyes brightened. "Initiation." He threw an arm around me, disregarding my torn blouse and the minor bleeding underneath. I muttered a healing charm and the cut re-stitched itself.

I looked around the room as wizards who were not there before seemingly appeared from the walls to clean up the carcass of the animals that attacked me. I could only dumbly watch as we moved further into the room. Desks and workstations sat lined in a row, two to each row facing forward.

I stopped Neville from moving us any further. "You still haven't answered my question. What is going on?" I persisted. My mistrust of the world was screaming at me to run away. The world had left me jaded; I did not shy away from it.

But a different voice answered in place of Neville. A softer voice I recognized immediately. "I haven't seen such outmaneuvering of an Acromantula since my trials decades ago. I'll have you start immediately."

I rounded to face the approaching form of Minerva McGonagall. "Have me 'start' just what exactly?" I asked, struggling to keep my patience in check. "Where am I?"

Minerva stopped before me and re-adjusted her square glasses on her slim nose. She did not wear her Hogwarts' professor robes or signature hat. In fact, she looked quite refined in a smart business suit of grey and black. "DMI-6, or Dark Magic Investigations – 6. We're a covert branch of the Ministry, Hermione. We hand select agents to defeat evil forces at home and abroad and I have selected you," she stated pointedly.

I blinked. Surely I had heard wrong? "Come again?"

Minerva smiled gently. "If you agree, I can train you to be one of the best agents we've seen in ages. And you _will_ be one of the best this agency has ever seen, Hermione. You have the natural talent, the brilliance, the makings of a great agent. You said yourself you wanted to 'help' after graduation. Together we can put you on the right path towards your future."

"She's right, you know." A familiar voice I hadn't heard in almost two years came from behind me.

A second voice joined the first. "Neville, here, barely made it through alive. Had to convince him he hadn't moved on to the great beyond, we did."

"Fred and George Weasely," I plainly stated, a barely-there smile on the corner of my lips as the red-headed twins appeared over my shoulder. What kind of secret agency was this? Neville blushed again as the twins playfully mocked his entrance into … DMI-6, was it?

"Hermione, darling." Fred took my hand and tried to playfully kiss it in greeting. Before he could pull it to his lips, I quickly pulled in his wrist, twisting it a way human wrists should not turn; all playfully of course.

"Ooooh, she's going to fit in just fine," George chuckled, slapping his brother on the back. Fred gingerly rubbed his sore wrist, mock scorn upon his lips.

"See if I introduce you to any of our new products then," Fred said in an injured voice. I smiled in return.

"Products? Don't tell me -" I ventured, as Neville's face lit up and Minerva's mouth drew in a tight line.

"Fred and George here are part of Product Development," Neville answered eagerly.

"More than product development," Fred countered.

"We keep the lot of you from biting the big one," George replied in step.

"Can't have that happening out in the field, can we?" Fred winked at Hermione.

Minerva cleared her throat. "Messrs. Weasley supply our unit with specialty gear custom-made for our agents. You would be hard-pressed to find such items within the Wizarding community. I scouted their 'talents' during their time at Hogwarts, thinking it would be an asset to the agency." She peered at the twins' enigmatic smile. "Can't say I've made the right decision," she spoke under her breath.

George threw an arm around Minerva's shoulders playfully. "Oh come on, M. You know you don't mean that." At the frosty glare she leveled on him, George gingerly removed his arm and stepped back.

"Mr. Weasley, if you would be kind to show Hermione to her quarters; she'll need the necessary equipment, a new change of robes and there's paperwork to be filled out." Minerva looked back to me. "Debriefing starts in one hour. Welcome to DMI-6, Hermione," she spoke with that ever-present twinkle in her eye.

When had I agreed to join exactly? The question remained unanswered, but that didn't stop me from following behind Neville, Fred and George as they yammered on about missions and life at DMI-6 Headquarters.

Seems like I was in for quite an adventure.

* * *

_So there's part one of five. The next to be posted in a day! If you feel so inclined, I would love to hear what you think. Love to you all!_


	2. Part Two

Part Two

* * *

_Three Years Later – 28 January 2001_

_._

_._

I pulled my cloak closer to my person, despite the fact that I was inside and my cup of hot chocolate was half-empty.

_What is taking them so long?_ I wondered, irritated.

With all my foot tapping, half the customers inside of Rosa Lee's Teabag had to be annoyed, but patience had never been one of my strong points. I reserved even less for others. Looking again to the window, I watched wizards huddled to themselves as they sought refuge from the bitter wind. Wizarding London could be brutal in January. I looked down to my timepiece again, knowing it would do nothing but piss me off.

"Dammit. Where _are_ you two?" I muttered.

Fred and George Weasley were always late. Since the moment I started DMI-6 training with the twins, I knew they were going to get on my nerves. Three years ago, I had begun my training with what Minerva called 'my agency family'.

I snorted inelegantly to myself.

Some family – it only consisted of Minerva, our boss, who we affectionately called 'M'; Neville Longbottom, recruited for his knowledge of herbology and its uses in the field; Fred and George Weasley, recruited two years prior to my joining, and two other recruits from Beaubaxtons Academy and Dumstrang. M gave us our missions and the twins provided us the tools to succeed, all of it was unorthodox and oh-so deadly. There was no time for much of an adjustment period.

Minerva had given me everything – well, as much as she could. My wardrobe was updated; I took hours of refinement classes for Merlin-knows how long. She was quite upset when I hacked my long curls off, citing the traditional image of witches in our society. I countered with its on-the-go ease and fashionable nature; I hadn't changed my pixie cut since.

Together we studied different languages, customs, and I learned how to ballroom dance. I spent hours inside a penseive, watching the memories of prior agents learning the tricks and ends to the game. Minerva knew I was a quick study and what I couldn't pick up in a book, I learned quickly within our training room (that initiation process I had gone through after graduation had only been an example). We had clearance higher than any Unspeakable, more than the Minister himself, and even he didn't know much about our existence. Plausible deniability and all that.

Within three months, M sent me on my very first mission with a strict warning to the twins to "watch out for her". I hadn't looked back since.

Speaking of the devils, two identical red-heads walked into the tea shop, finally, and plopped down in the seats opposite me. Fred removed his cap to reveal the same flame-red hair as his brother, though a bit longer. George kept his hair cropped short and spiked up in rebellious points.

"You're late." I glared at the both of them.

They smiled the same lopsided grin Ronald often wore. "Well hello to you, too. Were you clocking us?" Fred answered cheekily.

I rolled my eyes. "Well some of us have things to do-"

"And we don't have the same exact things, 'Mione?" George interrupted her with a pointed state. "Don't worry, M won't be upset."

I sighed. He was right, to a point. But I still didn't appreciate having to wait and raised an eyebrow as I took in the heavy circles under their eyes. "Late night, was it?" I took a sip from my hot chocolate, while a waitress approached us to take their orders.

"Maybe," Fred replied nonchalantly, but a rogue smile broke through. "I guess we should thank you," he admitted with an incline of his head towards me.

"Ah, so both of you and Sara are getting on fabulously, then?" I did not want to imagine what had happened with Sara from the DMLE office and Fred and George the night before; whatever secret glance they shared between each other was brief and all-telling. That didn't stop my mind from wandering anyway.

"Well, as fabulously as you can after one night." George smiled wickedly, taking a sip of tea as well.

"Hmm, just don't let the unit find out," I warned, although suspected they already knew. DMI-6 may've been a tight-knit group with few rules, but M didn't play; inter-office fraternizing was frowned upon.

We headed towards the secret entrance created for DMI-6 use. A grumpy troll by the name of 'Pound-Pound' (because all he could articulate was the word "pound") scanned our wands at the entry point and behind an invisible wall, our headquarters was in a flurry of activity.

The twins moved immediately to their bench, curious objects and ordinary ones that could kill a person ten ways before they hit the ground lined in front of them. Fred and George called Neville over before immediately going over plans for their latest product.

I took my usual seat at my desk in the back row, the shaved head of Michel Jean-Claude directly in front of me. Like me, Michel had just graduated from the Beaubaxtons Academy when he joined DMI-6. He was an Afro-Frenchman, twenty-five years old and quiet, but deadly. He turned and smiled at me before returning to his conversation with Jonathan.

Jonathan Winters was a recruit out of Dumstrang. My heart did a queer flutter every time I spotted him, but I quickly brushed it off as hormones. The twenty-four year old was a new recruit to DMI-6, but not new to the field. Ronald Weasley (a contact from the Auror office) had recommended I scout the Ministry transplant. After passing his name onto M, he was selected to join DMI-6 in a few weeks. He rarely spoke which was fine by me, as I could barely understand his heavy, Bulgarian accent.

M strode out of her private office, no doubt having Floo'ed in from Hogwarts (her 'day job' she affectionately called it) to give us the rundown. Her school robes, however, had been traded in for a grey-striped pant suit that matched her eyes perfectly. Neville made it into his seat just in time. M gave him a heated glare that took me back to Hogwarts, but I quickly changed focus as she began to speak.

"Our next case has been delivered to our desk by the Minister of Magic himself."

"Let me guess, another diplomat to be off'ed?" Fred sniggered to the side.

"I think we have something that can help with that," George offered cheekily.

"This is no mere assignation," M snipped at the twins. "The Ministry has been tracking underground rumors for weeks. For a long as we can remember, there has been peace within the Wizarding World. But for the past few months, there have been rumors of a man amounting vast amounts of wealth and supporters. To what end, they do not know."

"Who is this man?" Michel asked.

"We are not sure," M continued. "We aren't even sure if it's a man or a figurehead propped up by a group or organization. We just know that wealthy wizards and witches have mysteriously been killed." M waved her wand and headshots of various wizards flashed before the group's eyes. First there was a moving picture of a vibrant, young woman, then a greying older gentleman. Several others followed in succession. "

"Until now, the Ministry believed that these six murders just occurred by happenstance. It wasn't until recently that they connected the dots. Each victim was a scion of a wealthy Wizarding family. Their bank accounts were slowly drained over an extended amount of time. In no more than six months, their accounts had been emptied and then …" she let the sentence hang with grave understanding.

The headshots morphed into varying crime scenes: a body frozen in stasis on the bedroom floor; one outside of a restaurant; another within a back alley. "Gringotts security did nothing to alarm the Ministry, mind you. These withdrawals were slow and deliberate. Once the funds had been depleted, the victim was found dead no more than twenty-four hours later," M finished, a slight frown upon her face.

"This sounds like a job for DMLE," I spoke for the group. A few of my colleagues bobbed their heads in agreement. "Why hand it to us?"

M nodded at me. "Yes, the DMLE has ascertained that an unforgivable was used in all six murders. But other than that, the trail has run cold. What makes this our specialty is the tie to a would-be master organization. They haven't the tools nor the clearance to remove such a group. I fear this organization may have been formed for nefarious purposes, as evidenced by the tactics they are willing to use to achieve their end."

Michel spoke up, "How do we tie these murders to this mystery individual or group?"

"How we do know they are even linked?" Neville looked up from his parchment, ever dutifully taking notes.

"Because we've received this from what we believe to be the next potential victim," M answered sharply. "Thankfully, he turned it over to the Ministry." She waved her wand again and a close-up of a letter enlarged on the moving screen.

_You have been carefully selected to join our organization. Our mission is simple. Within our ranks you will find power, prestige and the opportunity to elevate your family to its rightful place. The price, you may ask? _

_Another owl will be forthcoming with the pertinent information. I suggest you take this into deep consideration, my friend. That is, if you value the lives of your mother and father. _

_Consider this your formal invitation._

_A friend,  
Marvolo_

"As you could imagine," M continued, vanishing the letter. "A thorough search has been done on any connections to the name Marvolo. It has already been examined by the DMLE and we know the Marvolos were an old Wizarding family, their last known residence in Little Hangleton. But their Manor was abandoned after the last known relative died in the 1950s."

"So, someone from their line has resurfaced?" Jonathan ventured.

"Either that or someone is using the name as a cover," I put forth.

M nodded her head towards me and pressed her lips into a firm line. "Exactly, and it is my inclination that the recipient of this letter is deceivingly being led down a road our previous victims have followed."

"Who was the recipient?" George asked.

"Draco Malfoy."

Neville swallowed nervously beside me as I spoke up, "Then an interview with Mr. Malfoy seems in order, then."

M gave me the same cryptic smile the day before graduation, her gaze locking with mine. "And luckily, we have just the cover to do so."

Her heavy implication left me worried.

* * *

_4 February 2001_

Smiling beautifully at the doorman as he opened the front doors, I inwardly marveled at the grandness of Malfoy Manor's sweeping foyer. Surely, the gesture was superfluous as the doors could have opened under an enchantment, but who were the Malfoys, if not showmen. The wizard took my invitation to the Malfoy's Annual Charity Gala and escorted me down the front stair. I longed to squeeze my wand for security as I entered a world completely different than the one I had grown up in.

However, my wand was currently sheathed in my thigh holster, hidden away by thin fabric. I wasn't completely comfortable in the ensemble Neville insisted I wear this evening. I would have been more comfortable in my leather jacket/legging combo, but he reminded me this was the Malfoys we were talking about and a witch wouldn't dare arrive to one of their soirees in trousers. I begrudgingly agreed, but the stares I now received caused me to second-guess my decision.

With a breath for stability and a reminder of the mission, I pressed forward with purpose, the silky train of my gown wrapping around my ankles as I strode across the foyer. The floor length black gown was spun of the softest jersey material. It hung off my frame in straight lines, clinging to my chest and hips. A sweetheart cut lined the front of the dress and a deep drop exposed my back. A more-than-propriety-allowed slit above the knee previewed the leg beneath as I moved gracefully to the bar. I paired the dress with a golden statement necklace made of enter-locking loops and chains, no other jewelry was needed. Some strappy black heels that would make a last-minute getaway impossible adorned my feet. They would be the first to go in chase, I decided.

My short hair was slicked behind my ears, a part on my left temple. I had gone for dramatic eyes tonight. A red lip completed the look. I thought I looked like a raccoon; a vamped-up raccoon, but a raccoon nonetheless.

I opened a golden clutch as I approached the bar, nonchalantly scoping the scene around me. The party was in full swing. Couples danced, wizards intermingled with one another, all laughing and hanging on to each other's words with feigned interest. I fought the urge to roll my eyes once more.

"What'll it be, sweetheart?" Even the barkeep was dressed impeccably in a white jacket and bowtie.

I gave him a smile, bringing forth all those pure-blood lessons Minerva had imparted to me years ago. "Surprise me," I stated, placing a few galleons into the glass bowl designated for tips.

He nodded and turned to concoct something I hoped was strong enough to help me get through this evening. Or at least numb my feet.

He returned with a dainty glass of clear liquid, similar to a cosmopolitan, topped with a slice of orange. "For the beautiful lady." He slid the glass across the bar and I caught it easily with one hand. I rose the glass to him before bringing it to my lips for a required taste. It was good and it was strong; the slightest hint of citrus danced across my tongue.

I raised the glass to him once more. "Thank you. What is this?"

"Orange martini. Shaken, not stirred."

I nodded my thanks again before taking off for the edge of the dance floor, mentally taking notes of who was present and who was talking to whom. I noticed Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy speaking with the Head Healer and Director of St. Mungo's, a reporter from the _Prophet_ dutifully taking notes. They were all smiles and beaming faces, just like at graduation three years ago.

Their son was nowhere to be seen, but I did not dwell on it. As I sipped my drink again, I felt a finger tap on my shoulder. I turned to greet … none other than Ronald Weasely.

I inwardly groaned and smiled forcibly in greeting. As he had hoped, Ronald joined the Auror department straightaway after graduation. Our missions within DMI-6 sometimes ran against the DMLE and more often than not, I crossed paths with Ronald in the field. That pesky school girl crush coupled with working similar cases late into the night had led to several one-offs with the Ministry officer. I did not regret them as it was exactly want I wanted at the time, but Ronald seemed to think it constituted an arrangement or the like between us. I didn't dare inquire on the status of his relationship with Lavender Brown, if there still was one.

He gave me a lingering once-over, his eyes undressing me as he returned back to my face. "Hermione, you're looking positively … feminine tonight." His range of descriptive vocabulary had not changed since Hogwarts unfortunately.

"How observant of you, Ronald," I responded dryly. "Are you here tonight on business or pleasure?" I took another drink from my glass.

He snorted. "As if the Malfoys would see fit to invite me to their annual gala for kicks. How about you?"

I knew he was fishing for information. It wouldn't be the first time he tried to use his office and our 'relationship' to share information. It never worked.

"Now Ronald, you know I can't tell you that," I chided teasingly.

Ron considered me once more. I had to admit, he looked dashing in his dress robes. His salary with the DMLE had certainly improved his wardrobe. "Dance with me, 'Mione," he said as he offered me his hand.

One dance wouldn't hurt, and it would give me an easier vantage point to sweep the floor. He took my drink and handed it to a passing waiter. I allowed him to sweep me out onto the floor and I swayed easily with the orchestra. "Why are there no house-elves?" I asked, using the cover question to peek around. I had the oddest suspicion someone was watching me. Even as Ronald moved us around the dance floor, I felt a burning between my shoulder blades that had my internal alarm flaring. "Surely a family as old as the Malfoys would have hundreds of them for an event such as tonight?"

"Things haven't been so good for the Malfoys over the years," Ronald replied as he turned me. I noticed his hands creeping ever lower down my back. "This charity gala is more for their image than it is for St. Mungo's."

"I've heard they've faced some recent troubles," I feigned ignorance. "And what have they done to draw the attention of the DMLE?"

He pierced me with a knowing grin. "The question is what have they done to draw the attention of your lot?" He caresses my backside and I replied with a shit-eating grin, halting his hand in the process.

"Now, now Ronald," I tutted and pulled his hand off my bum. The dance ended and we clapped politely as we parted. "Thanks for the dance. Perhaps, we should catch up later," I closed the conversation before it could go any further. I left him standing in the middle of the dance floor as the next waltz began.

I pretended to make for the ladies' lavatory, gently easing my neck around, mentally cataloging each door and hallway. I knew if there were any evidence or communications between the Malfoys and Marvolo, then it wouldn't be on the first floor with guests milling about.

It was easier than I thought to slip off and onto the second floor. As I moved down the ancient hallway, the music receded; family relics from another time lined the corridor. It reminded me of my Jane Austen novels with grand manors and broody men hidden in the attic.

A particular ornate double door at the end of a quiet wing indicated I had either come upon the master suite or a junior master suite. The door was warded. Smirking to myself, I removed a simple hair comb from my clutch. I didn't need a wand when I had a Weasley product in hand. I gingerly placed the comb on the doorknob, wincing as my fingertips burned from the protective ward, and stepped back to watch as the comb shook and then expanded. Fred told me the comb would break down any ward faster than a Cursebreaker ever could without leaving a magical signature and he was right; as if I would ever doubt him. The expanded fingers of the comb ran across the edges of the door and by time it shrunk back to its original shape, the door groaned as all wards were removed.

I stuffed the comb back into my clutch and entered, making sure to close the door behind me. The room was large and decidedly masculine.

It didn't take long to search for evidence. Making quick work, I began combing through drawers, dressers and cabinets looking for any sign of bribery, notes from Gringotts, or letters proving connections to Marvolo.

Even though M was eager to insist Malfoy was a victim, I was not. I hadn't been mistrustful of the blond git back at Hogwarts for nothing.

As I turned out the drawers of the nightstand next to the large bed, I felt a tingle of magic hit the bottom of my spine. My limbs locked and my wand arm froze, my back turned toward my attacker.

Someone had jinxed me!

Said someone tsked behind me. "Well, well," a deep voice drawled behind me. "Look what've I caught. Didn't anyone ever tell you it's impolite to snoop, Granger?" The voice steadily approached my back. "You couldn't keep your nose out of people's business back at Hogwarts either, but this is step down, even for you." A breath at my neck and I immediately got a whiff of mint and cologne. If my body wasn't frozen, I may have involuntarily shivered at the unexpected aroma.

I placed the voice by the second sentence and knew without a doubt I had found the Malfoy heir. Just who I was looking for; just not the way I wanted to be found.

Malfoy ran a finger light caress down my bare arms and even the jinx couldn't keep the gooseflesh from rising in his wake. "Although, imagine my surprise to see Hogwarts' resident bookworm all snazzied up at my parent's gala. You're just full of surprises aren't you, Granger?" he lightly chuckled at his own joke.

Mentally, I tried to work on breaking the jinx instead of focusing on his feather light-touches that kept running up and down my arm. Malfoy continued as he stalked around his frozen prey, "I couldn't keep my eyes off you tonight, Granger, and neither could half the room it seems. 'Who is that witch?' they asked. 'Where did she come from?' It was all I could do to stay hidden. Of course, I wasn't surprised to see you and the Weasel dancing on my ballroom floor." Draco's hands left my arms and retraced the path of Ronald's groping hands. He stopped just at my lower back, not completing my former lover's journey entirely. "Is he shagging you? You two looked quite cozy out there," he stated rather plainly.

That did it.

My anger snapped and the bubbling emotion allowed me to break the spell. Before I could turn around and hex him for the brash innuendo, Malfoy caught my arms and held them down by my side. "Ahh, knew you could do it," he quipped against the shell of my ear.

I struggled against his grip and pointed my wand up towards his groin. "You're walking on thin ice, Malfoy," I spoke low in warning. "Let me go." I pushed my wand deeper into his trousers; my hands ran against the softest fabric.

His eyes narrowed, but he did not release me. "Not until you tell me why you are ransacking my room?"

My eyes searched his and I hesitated if I should tell him. He shook me at my reluctance to respond. "Answer me, Granger!"

Well, I _had _given him a fair chance.

Replacing my knee for my wand, I lifted my right knee straight to his groin and when he doubled over, I maneuvered one arm behind his back. Using his forward momentum, I pushed him onto the bed, my weight toppling him backwards onto the mattress. Temporarily distracted by the pain, I grabbed his wand to ensure no further interruptions.

With two flicks and a swish, Malfoy was on his back, his arms tied to the bed post. I hiked my dress up and sat on his chest, satisfied at the small 'humph' he gave as I situated myself on top of him. Leaning forward, I whispered in his ear as he had done earlier. "This would have gone a lot smoother if you just stayed downstairs with the party."

Backing down and off of him, I leisurely resumed my search, satisfied with the his grunts as he tried to free himself.

He was unsuccessful. "My parents will come searching for me," Draco stressed, testing the rope's strength once more.

I smirked. Both of us knew he was lying. "Don't be so dramatic, you're in your room and your parents are busy entertaining," I answered as I pulled some papers out a side drawer.

"At least tell me why you're tearing through my room, without proper papers, I might add. The Minsitry will hear of this, Granger. Illegal search and seizure is still against the law," he sneered haughtily to my back.

I studied the letter in front of me and absently answered, "Close, but no cigar. I guess you can say I'm here on behalf of the Ministry." _That_ had him raising his eyebrows. "You've been threatened by a man by the name of Marvolo, correct?" I held a letter in front of his face. This letter was dated a few weeks after the one M had showed us at the rundown a few days ago. "Have you had any contact with the people sending you these letters?" I watched fear spread across his face. "Answer me, Malfoy," I ordered, impatient. It wouldn't be long before Ronald knew I had disappeared and he would come searching.

Malfoy pulled on the ropes again. "I haven't owled them back, if that's what you mean. I don't even know who they are? This 'Marvolo' contacted me out the blue one day and the next, he's asking for money."

"Two thousand galleons the first week. Five hundred every week afterwards," I repeated the demands stated in the letter.

"As if I would be so stupid as to willingly hand over my money." I rolled my eyes at Malfoy's arrogance, expecting nothing less. Malfoy continued, "If you're with the Ministry, I thought your incompetent lot would have handled the situation by now."

"We're working on it," I said, dryly.

"Then why am I still receiving letters? The first drop off is supposed to be in three days. Please tell me you at least have a plan of action?!"

I studied the man lying trapped on the bed and took out the charmed lipstick, gently pressing the scarlet coloring onto my lips. Slowly, I climbed onto his firm chest, the muscles tight beneath his starched shirt. His eyes journeyed across my face, down my chest, and ended at the junction between my legs. Wizards were so easy.

"As a matter of fact, I do," I whispered before I closed the distance between us. I could have placed the tracking charm embedded within the lipstick anywhere on his body. As long as it touched exposed skin, the charm would absorb through the epidermis and fuse to the person's blood. But as I sat looking over Draco Malfoy's features, his pink lips beckoned me for some reason. I might have never had a chance to kiss Hogwarts' most popular schoolgirl crush or Wizarding London's most eligible bachelor before, but I seized the opportunity to do so now and pressed my lips to his. My top lip hit his bottom as I sampled a taste.

I gave a gasp of surprise as his lips responded against mine.

I had not been expecting his lips to move with mine. His mouth relaxed against mine, easily letting me deepen the kiss if I chose to do so. My tongue took one swipe against the front of his teeth, before retreating back into my mouth. Malfoy's chased mine back and we wrestled for control, before I broke away completely.

It was teasing and hot for such a short connection. And surprisingly, I did not want to stop. My body lowered along his and I had a tempting thought to release the ropes holding the wrists straining to get to me. But it was time to go and I sat up, grinning at the red smeared across his mouth. Instantly, the lipstick sank into his skin as pale skin easily replaced the mess I had made on his lips.

It wasn't easy to dismount from Malfoy, but I slid off, rearranging my dress as I did so. The blond was shockingly rendered silent. There were no biting words, insults or threats for accosting him as I initially suspected. I did, however, notice the tent in his trousers and surmised that maybe our kiss wasn't all that bad for him. I smirked again.

Not bad at all.

Moving towards his bedroom balcony, my eyes zeroed in on the heat behind his glacial stare. "We'll be in contact soon, Malfoy." I smiled and couldn't help myself. "Don't go anywhere," I taunted.

And that broke the spell weighing heavily in the room. He struggled and fought against his binds once more, muttering beneath his breath.

"Granger!" Malfoy called, as he viciously pulled at the bonds. "Granger, get back here! You have my wand!"

But it was too late. I was out the window, Fred's expanding ring allowing me to drop safely to the ground thirty meters below.

* * *

_I hope you all are enjoying - more to come!_


	3. Part Three

Part Three

* * *

Not twenty four hours later, I heard Malfoy had rampaged through the Ministry demanding to speak with me. Unfortunately for him, he was met with personnel who denied I even worked there, since technically, I did not. It wasn't until he was threatened with arrest for disorderly conduct that he left, but the message had been received.

Draco Malfoy sought an audience with me.

Thanks to the lipstick charm applied the night before (a handy tool I would later thank the twins for) I found him staying at a posh Muggle hotel in Mayfair. Curious why Malfoy of all people would be staying amongst Muggles, I quickly rapped my knuckles on the hotel door. It didn't take long for him to open up, once I announced who I was.

"I'll have your badge for this, Granger," he snarled and snatched the wand in my outstretched hand.

I strode into his hotel room, ignoring his rude greeting. "Relax. I had to place a locating charm on it." I took note of the plate of half-eaten breakfast. Just how long was Malfoy planning on staying here?

"Why the blazes do you need to place a locating charm on my wand?"

"What made you turn the letter you received into the Ministry?" I asked instead. "I imagine a family such as yours would have no trouble answering the demands stated in the letter." I raised a finely arched brow and took a seat at the desk the room provided.

Malfoy shook his head defiantly, sending blond locks across his forehead. He looked boyish and petulant. "Not until you answer some questions for me first, Granger. You said you were on Ministry business the night of the Gala. Yet when I went to the Ministry, no one knew you worked there. There's no record of your employment _ever_ and even more, there's no record of you after our graduation from Hogwarts." He pierced me with cynical eyes.

I sighed, picked an apple from his tray and calmly began, "No, I suspect you wouldn't find any record of me. But that's how it's supposed to be. My group is called in by the Ministry to solve what they can't, to fix what they won't, all while keeping their hands clean," I finished with a tight smile. "That letter you received is part of a deadly chain of events that ends with you dead and an unknown organization tied to a man named Marvolo richer for it. You have about six months, I'd wager, before you're met with an _Avada_ in a back alley somewhere. My organization has been tasked with finding Marvolo and stopping it, by any means necessary." I made to stand from my chair. "Unless you've got this all handled and would like for me to leave …"

I started towards the door, when a firm grip encircled my upper arm. I stiffened at the contact. The events from last night fresh in my mind, it was all too easy to remember how badly he wanted to get to me.

The skepticism had not left his eyes, but I did not miss the flash of heat that simmered beneath the surface. Slowly, I saw acceptance win over and he ordered me to, "Sit."

I sat in the chair and crossed my legs. He sat opposite of me on the bed and ran a wary hand through white-blond hair and started resigned, "My mother and father do not know about the letters. Father's business has not been doing well lately. This is the last thing they need to hear. I had heard about the murders, of course, but the _Prophet_ never mentioned the circumstances that preceded it."

I nodded. No, that intel had not been released to the public.

"I knew I couldn't handle this on my own, not without answering Marvolo's demands. So, I turned it over to the Ministry in hopes that they would handle it with the _explicit_ request that they leave my father's business dealings out of it. My mother and father have enough to worry about without a Ministry inquisition into their financial matters."

"But Malfoy, if you don't comply…"

"I understand perfectly what it happens if I don't comply!" he finished hotly.

"There's no need for hostility. I'm on your side." He looked at me, surprised to hear me ever utter those words. The antagonizing and competition through our formative years made that statement hard to believe, but it was true. "You are our only living lead to Marvolo and if we are to draw him out, we're going need your cooperation in the interim."

"I am not some carrier pigeon that you can use however you please, Granger," Malfoy warned, the heat blooming across his cheeks.

I matched his intensity word for word and somberly stated, "If you don't want anything to happen to your parents, or your stuck-up arse for that matter, then I'd argue you're whatever we want you to be." I stood, ready to take my leave for real this time. "You're staying here for the near future while we track this man down. The meeting with Marvolo is tomorrow, correct?" When he nodded, I continued, "Good, then we'll make arrangements for you to meet him. It's important you keep everything as scheduled. Let him know you are cooperating one hundred percent."

"What if he's not at the meeting?"

"Then you need to find out where he is. We'll supply you with the funds as stated in the demand letter. All you're required to do is to show up and glean any information you can. I'll do the rest," I assured.

"You?" he sneered, marring his handsome features. "By yourself? Isn't there a team or some sort of command you should be reporting to, Granger? I'd doubt they'd let an inexperienced rookie run this entire operation."

I chuckled as I walked past the door, plucking a grape from Malfoy's unfinished breakfast tray. "I wouldn't worry about that. I'm _very_ good at what I do," I said with a wink and left Malfoy to puzzle that statement alone.

The next morning, I did not meet with Malfoy. On ops such as these, I would have placed a shrunken verison of Fred and George's extendable ears somewhere on his person, but I didn't want Malfoy to appear extra nervous nor tip off his contact, so I was left with reconnaissance.

I trailed behind Malfoy as he traversed his way through Muggle London. Surprisingly, he fit in naturally with the busy passersby on a vibrant Saturday afternoon. The right amount of confidence would allow anyone to effortlessly look the part and Malfoy had it in spades.

I glamored my face and wore a floral scarf to cover my hair. Sunglasses hid my eyes. Hanging a block behind Malfoy, I could just make out his blond locks pushing through the crowd. He disappeared into a café at the end of the street and I sauntered along, pretending to window shop.

It wasn't even ten minutes later that Malfoy re-emerged from the cafe looking frazzled, fumbling in his pocket for something. He pulled out a fag and I bristled at the nasty habit.

Before I could think to approach, a man, head bent low under a fedora and trench coat, wrapped an arm around Malfoy's shoulders and the two walked off as if there were long-time mates. I couldn't positively identify the large man, but the two chatted briefly before the man slapped Malfoy on the back and disappeared into the crowd.

Making sure Malfoy was once again alone, I walked into our pre-designated rendezvous and waited. The smell of ash alerted me to his presence hovering above me.

I ordered two cups of tea and asked, "Well?"

He dropped into the seat across from me. "It's done. I don't think that was Marvolo, but he's was happy that I'd complied. Told me 'Marvolo would be pleased I'd made the right decision.' "

"I'd figured as much. Did he tell you anything else? What did he look like?"

Malfoy stirred milk into his tea, carefully removing the smart jacket, as not to stain the expensive fabric. He always had impeccable taste. "Just when and where the next drop would be. I asked him about meeting Marvolo in person and he laughed. Said 'I was getting beyond myself'. But that there would be a chance to prove my loyalty in the future. Tall, stocky fellow, heavy accent. Eastern Europe, I imagine."

My mind whirled with the new information and I made plans to cross-reference it with M and Neville, one of the best researchers we had, beside me, of course. Unfortunately, Malfoy was no longer receptive to my questions after that and we finished of our tea in silence.

And so a pattern continued for a few weeks.

Malfoy would meet with the go-between to exchange money and tried to collect as much information he could without seeming too nosy. I would meet him back at the hotel room or our café to debrief what little had occurred. Every time he returned, he came back a little more pale, a haunted look masked behind his silver gaze. The realities of what rapidly approached at the end of our charade made it difficult to keep the mask in place, but he did.

One night, he did not come back at all.

Cursing when the hotel door didn't open twenty minutes after his meeting, I grabbed my leather jacket, and rushed onto the busy avenue. Muggles enjoying the nightlife brushed past me, ignoring my frantic appearance. I activated the locating charm on Malfoy's wand, connected to a bracelet I wore, and waited for the metal to warm as I neared him.

I could hear M thoroughly chewing my arse for losing our only lead; her voice ingrained in my psyche made my ears ache. But most unexpectedly, my heart jumped in on the verbal lashing.

I was _worried_ about Draco Malfoy.

The rhythmic thumping within the core of me grew louder as I searched; if only my younger self could see me now. It only confirmed what I knew to be true. I actually cared that something had happened to the git from Hogwarts.

Only he wasn't that anymore, was he?

I stopped outside a trendy Muggle café advertising pastries and free internet access, the warming on my face matching the heat at my wrist. Draco sat at a lone table within, a cup held in one hand. I followed his gaze to a note just above the mug. But I could no longer see the arrogant boy from Hogwarts. Oh, his cockiness was still firmly attached, but part of it had eroded as soon as the letters started arriving. I wanted to hug him or something just as ill-advised. He didn't ask to be put in such a position, and DMI-6 certainly hadn't given him an out. Taking in his brooding features, my heart did a queer leap at the sadness that loomed around him.

Draco Malfoy had grown up.

He sat there, seemingly lost; his eyebrows pinched together in thought. My natural curiosity took over and before my mind ran off on a tangent, I reprimanded myself to remember the assignment. Trying to manipulate my heart rate to a normal pace, I shamelessly shifted the worry from Draco to the mission. I knew it was a lie, but I'd be damned if I let him see it.

Briskly stopping at his table, I stood over Draco's head. "What the hell were you doing? You could have jeopardized everything!" I fumed through my teeth.

"I'm sure you'd have no problem filling my shoes," he drawled sarcastically, refusing to dignify me with a glance upwards. My jaw ticked with irritation. "Sit down, you're causing a spectacle."

Releasing my anger through a frustrating sigh, I slid into the chair opposite him and signaled the waitress. After an annoyingly long minute, I pestered, "So?"

Draco raised a pointed brow back at me. "So?" he mimicked.

"The meeting, you cheeky ferret!" I take back the comment about Draco Malfoy growing up. Some things never changed.

He pushed the paper he had been staring at across the table and I quickly scanned it. "Another meeting?" I ventured.

"_The_ meeting apparently," Draco corrected. "Congratulations, you've now got a man on the inside of Marvolo's organization." He answered my questions before I could voice them. "Next Wednesday, one pm, outside of the Leaky Cauldron."

I smirked, internally pleased. "Well done, Malfoy. We could use a man like you on the team," I joked as I took a sip of my tea, eyeing one of the croissants on display. Draco was silent a moment longer, his eyes dark on mine. I gently cleared my throat and informed him, "It's impolite to stare, you know."

Draco leaned back in his seat, his eyes lazily appraising my form as he crossed his arms. I would be lying if I said it didn't affect me. I shifted in my seat as he offhandedly began, "Just wondering where the swotty little bookworm went … I would have never imagined Hermione Granger from Hogwarts would cut off all her hair, turn her back on academia, and join an elite group of mercenaries." He shrugged. "Didn't see that one coming."

I scoffed indignantly. "I'm doing something I love and am good at with people who care about me. I don't see what's so strange about it," I snipped. I hadn't intended to acknowledge his skilled ploy to snoop into my personal life, but I found myself responding before I could think on it. "And I would have imagined _you_ married, with a child on the way by now. Furthering the line and all that," I bit back.

"I am worth more than just siring heirs." Draco curled his free hand into a fist, before replying bitterly, "Apparently, I'm also good for bankrolling dark organizations." He looked away from me, but I did not miss the disappointment that spoiled his pointed features.

Just then, a part of me wanted to reach forward and cover his fist with my hand. I knew what it felt like to carry such an emotion around with you all the time, in some ways I still did. Whenever I saw my friends with their families during our school days, one could feel the love surrounding them to the point of smothering. I wondered if Draco had the same thing waiting for him back at home. If there was someone to ease his heartaches or place that annoying twinkle in his silver eyes?

My eyes fell to Draco's lips, pushed in a slight pout as he brooded, and I remembered the brief kiss we shared the night of the Gala. The feeling hadn't been far from my mind. The same itch that surfaced those nights I had partnered with Ronald on missions abroad whispered how easy it would be to take what I wanted from Draco now. What was one night lost in mutual understanding?

He was in need of comfort; I was in need of a serious shag. It would be too easy to reach across the table, intertwine my hands with his and smile suggestively. Draco would take it from there. He was an intelligent man and I know he could deduce what the prolonged stares, heated arguments, and close proximity we often found ourselves in would amount to.

My hand slid off my cup and inched towards his. His eyes tracked the movement of my hand and the skin on my wrist prickled under the heat of his stare.

But …

Shaking my head lightly, my eyes lifted to eyes full of liquid mercury. "You're worth more than that," I affirmed, dropping my hands into my lap. I pushed back from the table, my mind made up. "Now lets get you home."

He pierced me with a questionable look I couldn't place, before shaking his head in disappointment and rising to join me.

Later, as I lay in bed confused at what the hell had happened, pining for the feel of a man's body pressed upon mine, I warred with my earlier decision. Just when had I ever turned down a physical encounter on a mission before? The stress coupled with the risk of certain death made it easy to lose one's self in the throes of passion. I had hardly refused Ronald, but I had pushed off such a thought with Draco because I was worried about his _feelings_?

As an agent of DMI-6, I had faced vampires, werewolves, even a gang of bloody Inferi. But I was never as terrified as I was at that moment; what was happening to me?

Something had shifted between us after that night. I certainly felt it and I guessed Draco had as well. We spent the next few days preparing for the meeting with Marvolo, but the atmosphere had changed. We rehearsed what Draco would say, how he would act (to which he suggested I was the one who needed acting skills) and what clues to look for.

It wasn't as if we were friendly before, but we had fallen into a comfortable routine, and now that was gone. I missed it. Our banter kept me on my toes, and before, where Ronald frequently got on my nerves and made me loathe a partner, now, I didn't mind working with someone as much. It gave me time to learn about a young man I never knew and rapidly, I found myself wanting to know _more._

But the culmination of our efforts was upon us. It was time for Draco to complete his side of our arrangement.

"Any last words," I joked with the stoic blond as he swiped one of my miniature quills. That quill was one of George's greatest inventions yet – a deadly instrument that would kill whomever touched its' poisonous tip. Draco slid it into his back pocket as if it belonged there. He seemed frustrated this morning, crankier than usual, and grunted at me in response. "Come again?" I inquired, pushing my arms through my trusted leather jacket.

"I said, I'm not the one who's afraid, Granger," Draco grated and I halted my movements.

The sting of his barb cut across my midsection and I rallied against the implication, my eyes narrowing dangerously. "Who said anything about being afraid?" I clipped, my hands on my hips.

But Draco would only smirk before closing the gap between us, a look of pure determination dominating his gait. His eyes flashed with purpose. "That's the difference between you and me. If I see something I want, I don't second-guess. I take it," he answered.

His words masked his movements as a strong hand grabbed the back of my head the same time the other took hold of my waist. For a breath, I could feel the rush of breath over my face before his lips covered mine.

For the first time in my career, Someone had just gotten the better of Agent Granger.

And I didn't mind.

My senses temporarily surprised by the maneuver, I could only move as he commanded, lost to the sensation of skin, lips and tongue. I have never hated and loved something as much as I did Draco Malfoy's kiss.

His tongue did not hesitate as he explored my willing mouth. He alternated between searching and tasting; I was completely pliant in his firm grasp. A hand ran and tugged at my cropped locks, titling my head back to deepen the kiss. My lips seared with the heat of him. It tasted of anger, drive, and of the sweetest revenge a person could give. Perhaps, Draco had been thinking of our kiss the night of the Gala as much as I had.

Screw my body's need for air, as I raised arms to encircle his back, I wanted to give into this man's demands. I eagerly explored this new territory with him, content to let him take the reins. My thighs pressed together to mask the excitement building at my core. He pressed his groin into my stomach; the sensation caused us both to moan.

But instead of relieving the pressure building, Draco released me with a stifled groan. My dilated eyes struggled to fixate on his swollen lips. Breathing was immaterial; I wanted more. But by time the earth had righted and my head resurfaced from the ocean he had pushed me under, Draco was waiting patiently by the door.

"Now," he panted, "we can go." He opened the door and exited, leaving me standing in the wake of his fierce kiss.

I pulled on my jacket, my hands opening and tightening in a fist.

Touché.

* * *

_ To be continued..._


	4. Part Four

_A/N: The next two parts move a little quickly as they were written under a deadline. Thank you to everyone who has been following along. I hope you enjoyed my little submission._

Part Four

* * *

Hospitals were not my thing. Even worse, I was actually waiting for someone. Typically, if DMI-6 agents were injured in the field, we were taken back to HQ to recover. But my first thought after the dust had settled was to bring Draco directly to St. Mungo's. As I stewed with impatience, I berated myself for the foolish actions that had led us to this point.

I had been careless. I had been sloppy, and it nearly cost Draco his life.

Marching to the front desk staff, I pestered the secretary for patient intake for any news, my patience had worn thin. My shoulders itched with irritation at her reply and insistence that I 'wait'. My arm stung from the movement. It had been hastily bandaged and would need re-dressing, but I refused to be seen properly until I had heard about Draco.

We had barely escaped with our lives.

It had seemed so easy; go in, arrest and/or kill the bad guys and bring Marvolo's head on a platter back as proof. How wrong I had been.

The plan was working perfectly; we had a man on the inside, but as soon as the designated portkey led us to a decrepit house in Little Hangleton, I knew something was amiss.

I had expected to see Marvolo. I had not been expecting to see my fellow DMI-6 agent Jonathan Winters. My heart sank as Jonathan smirked cruelly at us. Draco stood perplexed; I swore loudly. We had been set up! Jonathan had been Draco's contact the entire time. How foolish had I been not to see it right before my eyes.

A gruesome battle ensued between a blindsided Draco and myself against Jonathan and the man revealed to be Marvolo. It ended with the mastermind dead, cut off in the middle of an epic tirade on dominating the Wizarding world from a quill in the neck; the very same Draco quill had squirreled off me earlier. The poison from the tip worked fast in Marvolo's veins. With an expert twist of the wrist, I eliminated Jonathan Winters, but there wasn't much time to take inventory. Draco had been gravelly injured. The first thing I did was to bring him here to St. Mungo's.

Again, I approached to the aggravating woman, determined to pull rank and demand an answer when she surprisingly gave me Draco's room number. I made short work trekking to his door. Steeling myself for the worst, my heart pounding down to my wrist, I rounded the corner seeking grey eyes.

"Come to make sure the Ministry didn't lose their rat," Draco huffed weakly as I entered the doorway. His acerbic tone did not stop the queer flutter my heart gave at seeing him alive. His head had been bandaged, his left arm as well, but at least his attitude hadn't changed.

"Would you rather I not show at all?" I retorted. Quickly sweeping the length of him, I assured myself of his well-being and tried to soothe my erratic heartbeat.

"I hope you know, I expect full compensation for my injuries," he announced sourly as I approached his bed. "Your incompetency almost had me killed."

"You're alive and in working order, Draco. You should be glad, the extortion plot is over. Headquarters is wrapping up the case now. The Ministry owes you a debt for your service. You can return home now." My little finger itched to reach out and touch him. Visual confirmation was okay, but tactile confirmation would be much better.

Draco watched with an unreadable expression as I nervously tapped my wand against my leg to keep from acting on impulse. I sighed, frustrated. There wasn't much else to do here. Paperwork needed to be filed. HQ needed to be updated, if M didn't already know by now. I would need to contact Ron's office to handle the clean-up with the _Prophet_, no doubt they'd get wind of the strange occurrence in Little Hangleton this afternoon. "Well, as long as you're alright," I said by way of dismissal, not moving an inch from Draco's bedside.

The pain potion made his words slur as he settled against the pillow. "So quick to leave, then?" His voice was nearly a whisper. "You've got what you want and now you'll disappear into obscurity."

I smiled softly, taking a step back as representatives from the DMLE started to file in. "Until next time, Malfoy," I replied over the din, but it wasn't enough. Draco couldn't hear my farewell over the questions fired at him. Smiling to myself, I ducked a strand behind my ear and left the hospital room. I had to give Draco credit for getting it in one. I may have got my mark, but I was nowhere close to getting what I truly wanted.

* * *

While Draco recuperated at St. Mungo's, no doubt annoyed from dealing with Ministry officials, I headed back to the hotel room he had holed away to gather confidential evidence for our files.

Taking out my wand, I magically straightened the room and saved a few papers for DMI-6's report. As I summoned a few sheets, a receipt from the Muggle cafe down the street flew into my hand. Absentmindedly, I noted the date and time and stuffed the tiny receipt into my front jacket pocket.

After a final run-through, I was prepared to check out. At the sound of the door creaking, I twisted around mid-stride like a piece of licorice, not expecting anyone to join me.

He appeared as if my thoughts had summoned him.

I shook my head in disbelief as the blond closed the door behind him with hint of finality. He looked tired, his bandaged arm tinged with a touch of red. But his eyes glittered with fierce determination that had my breath catching. "Shouldn't you be hopped up on pain potions by now?" I asked. That glint made me freeze just before the bed.

"I must be to do this," Draco muttered beneath his breath as he limped across the room and pulled me into him, his grip steady and unrelenting. His good arm tightened about my waist and I could feel wetness beneath my lashes as my eyes fluttered shut. "Wasn't … ready … to let you … leave," he breathed in between kisses. He could have died and I would have never tasted his kiss again. Such a thought suddenly left me yearning for what else I hadn't sampled of him as I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him back.

Draco pushed all the words we could never say aloud into his kiss. All the conversations that had never occured in Muggle cafes rushed between our lips.

Inside this hotel room, in the few stolen moments, we said all we needed to say.

_I could fancy you._

_Make love to me._

_Will you stay?_

I begged in a small whisper, as he dropped saccharine lips to my neck, "Please, Draco."

I didn't know what exactly I was begging for, but Draco seemed to understand. I did not feel ashamed. My body sang as currents of electricity tinged my hands. It made disrobing hard to do. Carefully, I tried to remove the shirt over his wounds, but he grunted in response and picked up my wand.

He _vanished _the shirt in an instant.

Merlin, he was gorgeous! I took a moment to appraise his physical features, my eye sweeping across his chest. Leaning forward, I placed a light kiss right above his heart. Did he feel that? A rush of anticipation spreads between us and we startled at the contact. Looking up to gauge Draco's response, to see if he felt the same thing, I studied him. But grey eyes assured me he was mine for however long a time we had; I would not waste it.

We rushed to finish disrobing; Draco's file and case fell to the floor in disarray. We tumbled into bed, lost in each other's embrace. Time was too short to explore one another, but it was not from a lack of want.

My body tightened as two fingers inserted inside and I couldn't help the incessant pull I gave to Draco's hair, the strands of silky light hair sailed between my fingers. I lifted off the mattress in effort to reach something that was just … there, but somehow out of reach.

_Hurry_, my mind begged.

His fingers pulled an incoherent prayer from my lips as they wiggled and twisted inside me. He exchanged his fingers for tongue and my world dangerously tipped towards rapture with the first swipe of the strong muscle. A deft hand reached up to stroke my nub of pleasure; once lovingly, then again, with increased pressure. The result was reminiscent of free fall, except instead of the accompanying fear, nothing but ecstasy exuded from my pores.

As I lay panting on the bed, a strange combination of emptiness and fulfillment, pain of different sort and pleasure consumed me. It culminated to the man looking down between our bodies. Draco lifted his head and our eyes locked; not a word was spoken between us.

He entered me swiftly and it was the catalyst that sent me over the edge. My orgasm made his entry seamless. But Gods, it was not enough; I wanted more and shamelessly pulled Draco flushed against me. He could barely hold in his facial reaction as my walls pulsated around him. As my orgasm lessened, he possessively grabbed ahold of my shoulder, anchoring me for his pleasure. As he became fully sheathed within the core of me, the hesitancy left. He grabbed the flesh of my shoulder for purchase and ground into me.

I could only watch, his thrust tearing gasps of surprise from my throat as he moved against my body, my back sinking further into the mattress. He was angry. I didn't know if it was at me, the world or his close- encounter with death, but I was more than happy to channel his frustration.

Never had an escape felt so pleasurable, but my inner Gryffindor couldn't help but the worry over his injuries re-opening. Half-voicing the question aloud, Draco cut it off with a kiss. He poured his anger into the kiss and I let the question drop, satisfied to match his intensity with my own. If this was what escape entailed, I would leave this world just to feel like this. The sounds of the world outside our room muted as my attention focused to the man above me.

We came together, the pain of his orgasm (or injury, I could not discern) screwed Draco's eyes shut. He fell against my shoulder, shaking from the exertion. It took all I had to embraced him carefully, ever mindful of his bandages. Our bodies were slick with sweat.

I closed my eyes and ignored the calls of the world, my job, and duties, as if I could hide forever behind my eyelids. But they would only grow louder now that we were finished. Because in all honestly, wasn't this it? We had both nearly escaped death and this was just a quick release to cap the mounting tension between us. A mere tumble in the bed. I had done the same with Ronald for quite some time now.

But even I knew that this was different. Something had changed.

_That_ unsettling thought tore my eyes open in alarm. Pathetically, I wiggled beneath him and he lifted, allowing me to move from underneath his warm embrace. As I sat up, quickly searching for my clothes, I heard him clear as day.

"Stay."

That word had never entered a situation such as this. Turning to face the slightly flushed man lying on the rumpled bed, I felt my heart rent in two. Part of me wanted to leave, but a bigger part of me wanted to give into his every request.

What sort of magic did this man hold over me? I settled onto the bed, giving into whatever hypnotic hold this was to clumsily scoot beside him. It wasn't until his strong arm pulled me flush against his chest, did I relaxed completely.

Well, this was completely new.

"You are not Hermione Granger and I am not Draco Malfoy," he breathed into my hair. The short locks tickled my ear and I squirmed against it. "In here, we are just a man and woman. We have no further obligations until I check out St. Mungo's tomorrow and you return back to DMI-6."

I turned to face him. "Just a man and woman?" I asked.

He looked so young and boyish propped against his good arm on the hotel pillow. My heart leapt amusingly as he continued, "With an entire night to just be. Stay, Granger."

But it was hard to turn my mind off; surely, he knew this as I questioned, "But what about your Mother and Father? I'm sure they will want to know you're alright. Other loved ones and friends as well," I reached.

He disregarded the statement with a smirk. "I can continue with 'family traditions and upholding pureblood ideals' tomorrow," he replied as he leaned down to kiss me. "Tonight, I only have eyes for you." There wasn't time to be perplexed at that particular statement or the way he phrased it before I was lost amidst his kiss again, the fervor sweeping over us both.

We scarcely slept the remainder of the evening and Draco rewarded my decision to stay one-hundred fold. But the rising of the sun halted our mini-escape and I spent the remainder of the night brooding while I lounged across his chest.

Draco had finally given into exhaustion, his body's need to recover too great. It was then that I slipped out of the hotel room, my body thoroughly sated. Yet my heart was painfully empty.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	5. Part Five

Part Five

* * *

_31 March 2001_

I tried to ignore the copy of the _Prophet_ sitting on my counter. I really did, but the words screamed on the page: _Malfoy Heir and Ex Rekindle Romance? See page 3 for the inside scoop_. I stepped around the offending paper as water bubbled and boiled for my morning tea.

Some things I still did the Muggle way, despite my penchant for magic, but there were some things I would never do again. Like sleeping in a cold room with five other occupants or cleaning the floorboards with a broken broom. For all my meager beginnings, at least when I slept in a room filled with the other orphans, I had company to talk with at night. It would never compare to strong arms wrapped around my waist … and I immediately halted that line of thought.

It would do no good to think of him now, I scolded myself. The mission was complete, the murders solved, case closed. Draco was free to go his own way, and I mine. Whatever liaison existed between us had only been physical: a sizzling flash in a pan doomed to fade. Looking over the rim of my mug at page one of the _Prophet_, an image of Draco and Pansy Parkinson coming out of a restaurant together mocked me. His profile was hidden behind an arm, she just one step behind him. I couldn't stop the pain deep in my chest.

_Just forget him_, I pleaded with my heart. _It'll pass_, I implored to stinging in my chest. It was never meant to be more.

We (if you could even call it that) could never be more than sex. This job wouldn't allow it. Even if I did … my job came first. It always would.

And now I was lying to myself. Who was I kidding? We were from two different worlds, treading two separate paths. Whatever world existed we created a few months ago could never exist within my line of work or his responsibilities to his family's honor.

"Looks like it just you and me, Crooks," I smirked to my orange Kneazle curled on the counter top. Of course, he never answered, but he purred in understanding.

Sighing, I pushed the paper into the rubbish bin, pulled on my tried-and-true leather jacket and headed for HQ's newest locale.

* * *

_28 June 2001_

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Fred stated from his position on the sidelines.

"But that was absolutely terrible," George finished.

"Your worst one yet, love," Fred somberly agreed.

The twins approached me as I lowered my wand, smoke still smoldering from the tip. "Your magical enhancer needs improvement," I crisply informed them. Snatching the timepiece off my arm, I was quick to blame the new device. "I can still feel my magic draining. Those two Inferi would have finished me around the last corner had I not ducked."

George looked offended. "Our invention works just fine, thank you very much."

"You're just rubbish today, love." Fred shrugged as he took the timepiece back from me.

"Not our fault," they harped in unison and I tried to glare in response, but it fell flat.

"They're right, you know." A new voice caused me to turn. M peered over square-rimmed spectacles at me. "I saw you from the observatory. Your reactions are slow. A shame, actually. Have you given up, Ms Granger?" she asked stiffly.

I squared my shoulders, affronted. "So, I'm a little tired. The last mission took us all by surprise. Who knew Winters was a double agent?" I stubbornly refused to admit the real reason for my lack-luster performance and walked over to the weapons table; new products and different devices sat waiting to be used. I fingered a particularly long rose stem. Before I could even ask the twins what is was, Fred answered my unspoken question.

"Be careful of the thorns. Right nasty poison we've infused in the stem. Perfect chance to escape tricky situations should the need arise."

A slight smirk and a raised brow told them I would be inquiring about it later. "Right."

"Messrs. Weasley," M spoke while keeping eye contact with me. "Would you please give us a moment?"

Great, here it comes. I could feel the reprimand coming kilometers away and geared myself for the thorough chewing-out I knew was coming. I was wondering when she would have the inevitable talk since the fallout of the last mission. I waited impatiently for her to get on with it. But she just looked at me, contemplating. Her lips pressed into a sharp line, clearly unimpressed, and I was tempted to raise a brow in question. But I held my tongue… or brow rather, in check.

"You know, Hermione, if you need to take a reprieve, I would not hold it against you. You've worked almost four years straight. You can visit the Potters or Ron," she began.

"I'm **fine**, M," I clipped, emphasizing the word. "I don't need a holiday." And I certainly didn't need to visit Ronald. I picked up another gadget, a miniature quill. Good, I needed one of these. My other one was … sitting in the pocket of one unnamed blond's trousers.

"I won't have an agent slipping in the field. It's bad enough we lost Winters, I won't lose you as well," M pressed.

I lifted my gaze to her, resolute. "I'm not going anywhere."

"If your behavior these past few weeks are of any indication, I am not convinced. You've lost your edge and if this has anything to do with Mr. Malfoy –"

I bit my lip, chastised. "It doesn't. I—I got sloppy," I admitted. When she gave me an expectant look, I continued, "More so than usual. It threw me for a loop. It won't happen again," I swore, hoping she could read the sincerity in my eyes.

After a few moments of silence, her tone hardened. "Did you love him?" she asked dispassionately, as if the word 'love' could ever hold any weight. I guess in this line of work, love couldn't. There wasn't room for love and DMI-6. I had committed myself to the Ministry; my heart would have to comply. There was no use in looking back or wondering any longer. I had to let him go. It didn't stop the burning, but I could compartmentalize with the best of them.

"I-I cared for him," I hesitantly acknowledged the partial truth aloud. She pierced me with another disbelieving glare, but that was all she was going to get from me. It was the most I could admit to myself. And Draco said I couldn't act – ha! I took a deep breath and forged ahead, "But that was in the past. I won't allow my emotions to jeopardize a mission in the future."

The elder witch nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Good to hear." She looked like she wanted to say more on the subject, but let it drop and produced a folder from her inner jacket pocket. "Your next mission, Granger," she stated sternly, a warning look in her eye not to fuck it up. "I expect better from you both this time around."

I took the folder, beginning to flip through the files. "Both?" I asked confused.

"**Bloody hell**! Is that what you lot call the welcome wagon?!"

I turned, dizzy at the familiar voice; the folder forgotten in my hands as a sopping wet Draco Malfoy stumbled around the corner. A wand tight in his hand, his chest rattled as he tried to steady his uneven breathing.

_Blink_! I implored myself. _Blink so you know this isn't real_! As I tried to remember how, my eyes refused to close, drinking in the image of his shirt plastered to his chest. His pants clung to his lithe frame and my heart stuttered in my chest. Blast it!

"Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger here can show you around." M pierced me with a conspiring grin. "Since we are a man down, I thought it best to scout new recruits. I'm sure the twins will be out to greet you as well." M muttered a drying spell over the blond wizard as he neared. "That's better," she spoke to herself. "The rundown's in thirty, Hermione. Think you can show our new recruit here the ropes before then?" She gave me a barely there smirk before tipping her spectacles at me. Turning smartly on her heels, she gave us privacy for the moment.

"Recruit? What the blazes is going on? What the fuck was that?!" Draco wheezed, still frightened from his initial-entry test. I could only imagine what horrors he had faced in the simulation.

I crossed my arms, opting to skip the question as my eyes roamed the man before me. I still refused to believe it. "What about 'family traditions and upholding pureblood ideals'? Marriage, heirs and all that rot? Your fiancée wouldn't approve, I'm sure," I outlined somewhat bitterly, chiding myself to remain professional.

Draco stopped his prior tantrum to level stormy greys upon me. But I wouldn't lose myself in them. He answered icily, "If I recall, you were the one to have left me that morning." But the chill receded. "I hung it all. Quite literally, of course. Mother was upset; Father too. The Malfoy line may not have an heir for the foreseeable future. Pansy's upset she won't become the next Lady Malfoy. But as I'm visiting Diagon Alley one morning, McGonagall approached me with a slip of paper with nothing but a date and time. I had never been more scared, yet sure of something in my entire life. Because I knew it would lead me to where I wanted to be," he finished pointedly as his eyes tracked my face for a reaction. He reached for my hand and I let him take it, relishing in the feel of his large hand covering my own.

I rather liked it and tried not to smile. "And now?" I questioned stubbornly.

He rubbed the back of my knuckles before letting it go. "Now … Now I want to know what the bloody hell did I just come through?" He threw his head over his shoulder towards the cave entrance littered with water.

I smiled, truly, and gathered it was the first of more to come. "Initiation. Welcome to DMI-6, Draco Malfoy." I turned, opening the folder containing reconnaissance on our next target.

_India_, I thought to myself. Not too shabby. I heard it was hot this time of year. I couldn't wait to have tea at one of their Muggle cafés and listen to Draco complain of sunburn in Wizarding Mumbai.

I started for the debriefing room, knowing there was much to cover in thirty minutes. M did not give leeway for tardiness. "You're now part of a covert arm of the Ministry. Any knowledge of your existence from here on out is on a need-to-know basis only. Your file within Ministry records will be expunged and all contacts, disavowed. Any past you may have had; it's history."

_Any future_, I thought with a smile to myself_, remains to be seen_. I could feel that gentle squeeze around my heart and turned to see if he was following me.

He was.

"Any questions?" I inquired.

I watched that lazy smile climb his lips and my eyes riveted to his pink mouth. "So, when can we disappear?" he voice lowered. "There's a lot you and I need to discuss." His fingers tentatively caressed the healed injury on my arm and I ached to grant his request.

My lips parted, desperate for quick taste, but I broke the spell, the line between professionalism and something much _stronger_ making me forget myself temporarily. I pulled out his grasp playfully, completely business once more. "After the rundown, Malfoy." I threw my head towards the door behind us. "Now come on, I need to introduce you to the team. Neville, Fred and George are going to get a kick out of this," I laughed.

"Bloody Longbottom's here, too?!" Draco sputtered, amazed.

And just like that, I was back. I was Granger. Hermione Granger: secret agent with DMI-6, protector of the Wizarding world and now … _partner_ to Draco Malfoy.

_End_

* * *

_A/N: That's it. My entry for the 2014 DramioneLove Fest. Thank you all for the reviews, favorites and follows. Now, back to my regular updates..._


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